We'll fly and we'll fall
by BornBellamist
Summary: Muse. This is it, the greatest night of their lives, but there's something looming on the horizon for Matt, Dom and Chris that may threaten the very foundations of everything they've accomplished. Story inspired by the interview in which they speak of Glastonbury as "the best" and "worst" night of their lives. *With just a hint of Belldom*
1. Proclaim eternal victory

Matt took one last gulp of his water, spluttering as he did so. The roaring of the crowd penetrated through the closed door, running through him like an electric current. As he returned to the stage to a tumult of applause, he was momentarily blinded by the blazing white lights as he acknowledged the now familiar crowd "Thank you very much, thank you very much... This next song is specifically designed for the use of lighters".

The opening melody of Blackout sounded and Matt lowered his head, grasping the microphone with both hands "Doon't fool your….seelf." Allowing himself to become completely immersed in the song Matt closed his eyes. The steady beat Dom was drumming out reverberated in his chest as his heart beat in time, the now hushed hum of the crowd lapped at his consciousness. As the song built to its climax he found himself bent double over his guitar drawing out a series of high pitched keens from it. Matt picked out a few last echoing notes before raising the guitar above his head, exultant at their performance.

The flashing lights became steady beams that angled up into the sky, allowing Matt to look out into the crowd. The people that surrounded the stage were bathed in a ghoulish glow, fists pumping, shouting out their appreciation. As Matt looked upon their upturned faces he felt the power of the raw emotion that was being projected at them. It was moments like these which kept drawing him to the stage. The sensation of adrenaline searing through him as the sheer momentum of the crowd compelled him to rise above himself once more. This had been the best night of their collective lives, it felt like every twist and turn had been in preparation for this event. Where he stood now, he felt triumphant, but it was not over yet. And so with all the showmanship he could muster he led them through the whirlwind wonder of Stockholm Syndrome, stirring himself and the crowd into a frenzy.

As usual the magnitude of the song proved too much as Matt threw himself into another riff spurred on by the energy of the crowd. After grabbing hold of the amp he kicked it over onto its side in a release of energy, before jumping on top of it and resuming his mad antics. This was something Dom and Chris never failed to take the piss out of him for, but he didn't care, not while he was rejoicing in the sheer abandon that came with one of these displays. Turning away from the crowd for the first time, he caught Dom's eye, a mischievous glint in his own. He made his way towards the drum riser, making sure to sustain a sort of drawn out riff that contained solely hammer ons, meaning he had full usage of his right hand. Dom chose to ignore Matt's approach, granting him only a fleeting sidelong glance. Matt found these moments most opportune for teasing the drummer seeing as he was incapacitated and unable to fight back.

Matt's intentions became clear as he started to disassemble the drum kit, tossing aside a cymbal. It soon became a sort of game, Matt getting rid of the components one by one while Dom continued to drum with more vigour, almost daring Matt to try and remove the central pieces. Suddenly Matt ceased his destructive behaviour and hoisted himself onto the drum riser. He straddled the base drum, shifting slightly to gain better balance and laughingly looked up to meet the drummer's eyes. Some subconscious reaction to Dom's cheeky expression prompted him to look away, feigning interest in the crowd. The feeling of discomfort was replaced with amusement as something caught his eye. Chris had upstaged them both. Up against the barrier, in the glow of the spotlight, Chris was being mobbed by members of the crowd, hands reaching out from all directions. Matt held his glance long enough to see him raise his bass above his head, preparing to start another riff. Matt swivelled back towards Dom who was bobbing up and down. "Annnd ONE TWO THREE FOUR!" Matt hollered before the drums and guitar rushed to join the bass to thump out Execution Commentary. He never wanted this night to end he thought, throwing his head back to bathe in the adoration of the audience. At one point Matt reached out to tap Dom on the shoulder, getting his attention he mouthed the word "Glastonbury" unable to keep the goofy smile from his face.


	2. Moments of happiness elude

**A/N: A bit more humour than what I intended at the start of this chapter, but when one writes about Matt and Dom one cannot help but be inclined to write humorously =D **

***Also there's a smidgen of swearing...  
**

"Unbelievable," Matt muttered, still breathless. Entering the dressing room he spun around, coattails billowing. His ears buzzed, unaccustomed to the relative silence after all the riotous noise. He had been the first to leave the stage, closely followed by Chris, who had tapered off somewhere. Dom was walking towards the dressing room, glancing over his shoulder as if to catch one last glimpse of the hidden crowd. "That was fucking proper rock'n roll!" Matt enthused as Dom entered the dressing room and flopped down onto the couch. "Amazing," Dom agreed with a contented smile. "Did you see the bonfire in the crowd during Plug in baby?… I was like fucking phwoar….it was huge!" Matt whisked around the room reliving the moment, inspiring a light chuckle from the drummer. He would never understand how Matt could have such an abundance of energy after a gig. "Your choice of dress was certainly something," Dom said, taking in the white lab coat Matt had donned for the gig. Matt stopped whirling around and struck a pose; arms crossed, chin raised. He waited for Dom's reaction, watching the drummer's eyes rake over him. Feeling awkward at the obvious scrutiny and lack of humour coming from the drummer, Matt turned away for the umpteenth time that night, a slight warmth creeping into his cheeks. He shook his head, "Stop it," he chastised himself, "You're bringing this on yourself." He rushed over to a nearby cupboard, producing a bottle of champagne and two flutes "I think drinks are in order" he announced, eyebrow raised.

Just as Matt was wrestling with the champagne bottle, Chris poked his head around the door. "You two kids partying already?" he jibed. "Couldn't have a party without a party animal" Dom replied teasingly, earning a playful punch from Chris as he sank onto the sofa with a heavy sigh. Just then there was a loud pop as Matt managed to uncork the champagne, the fizzy liquid spilling out onto his hands. "Come on mate bring on the booze," Chris leaned forward eagerly. "First come first served," Dom interjected, holding out his glass expectantly. Matt ignored the two of them as he took a swig from the bottle, to various sounds of protest from Dom. "Beggars can't be choosers," Chris laughed, snatching the flute out of Dom's hand. Matt continued to ignore the pair of them and straightened himself up to his full height, which received a snigger from Chris. "Gentlemen" he started in his most pompous voice, champagne in one hand, unfilled glass in the other. He raised both arms looking rather comical. "It was an absolute fucking pleasure to play with you tonight." He was cut short by Chris, who reached forward, seizing the champagne bottle. "Oi!" Matt protested, "I'm not finished yet," he pouted. "You can't make a toast when no one else has a drink" Chris said pouring himself a flute full and downing it, Dom eyed him sceptically. Feeling excluded Matt bounded over to the couch flinging, himself down between Dom and Chris. Only there was not enough room for the three of them so he ended up half sitting on Dom, half on Chris. "Geroff," Dom groaned. Matt responded by settling himself more comfortably, before flinging the remaining flute at Dom. "Wanker!" he giggled as Dom juggled the glass. "Here" he said reaching over and grabbing the bottle off Chris, to pour Dom a glassful. "Cheers" Dom said sarcastically, extending the flute. His hostility dissipated as he became fixated with the way Matt's tongue protruded slightly from the corner of his mouth, as he focused on pouring the champagne. Suddenly Matt looked up at him from under thick lashes and Dom's heart skipped a beat, thinking he'd been caught out. He quickly looked away, focusing instead on his champagne. He discovered the reason for Matt's suspicious glance as he observed his glass, which was barely a quarter full. "Gimme that," he snarled reaching for the bottle. Matt was caught by surprise at Dom's delayed reaction, but nevertheless attempted to hold it out of reach. Dom's fingers closed around the neck, pulling it towards him, champagne sloshed up out of the bottle and pooled in Matt's lap. Dom hastily withdrew his hand and subsequently collapsed into a fit of laughter. "Argh you…" Matt exclaimed, trailing off as he picked daintily at his now saturated black track suit pants in disgust. Chris' eyes darted from one man to the other, sensing a vibe he knew all too well after all these years. As inconspicuously as was possible, considering he was positioned underneath Matt, Chris got up to leave. "Where are you going?" the question sounded more like an accusation as Matt rounded on him. "Just out for a fag" Chris held up his hands in a gesture of peace. Matt glowered at Chris' retreating figure as he sprang up, heading towards the inter-leading room. "Sooo...rry" Dom choked out between a string of giggles. "Bells…come back….." he gasped "I didn't mean hahahahahah". Next door Matt stripped out of his sodden track pants and grabbed the only available item of clothing in sight, his lip curling. Matt marched back into the dressing room. Dom propped himself up on his elbows and willed himself to stop smirking, until he caught a glimpse of what Matt was wearing. "Aren't those…." Dom wondered aloud. Matt's indignant stare was all it took to bring on another bout of laughter from Dom. Matt was wearing one of the fans' more interesting gifts that Dom had chosen to keep; a pair of neon pink mini shorts. This, paired with his original lab coat, made for quite a sight. Annoyed, Matt looked around the room for a means of revenge. After briefly considering throwing one of Dom's own drumsticks at him, Matt's gaze fell on the bottle of champagne that stood on the table in front of him. Whilst keeping his eyes fixed on Dom's quivering figure, he felt for the bottle and craftily made his way over to the couch. Reaching over, Matt emptied the remaining contents over the guffawing drummer. Dom's head snapped up in surprise as he was drenched in champagne, his collar soaked, rivulets trickling down from his hair. He rubbed his irritated eyes and peered out at Matt, who was brandishing the now empty champagne bottle and had a devilish grin on his face.

The next thing Matt knew he was on the floor, Dom's knee sticking painfully into his chest, holding him in place. He wriggled around, trying to escape, laughter wracking his wiry frame. "We've got an hour of press coming up and now you've blown it," Dom whined. "Awhawghaha!" This only made Matt laugh harder. Dom removed his knee from Matt's chest, in the fear that he was cutting off the singer's air supply. He then swiftly readjusted his position so that he had one knee on either side of Matt's torso, he wasn't about to let him go that easily. "What?" said Dom, feeling a smile colour his own features. "What are you laughing at?" Dom placed a hand on Matt's forearm, which Matt grasped with one of his own, giving it a squeeze. Dom's mouth hung ajar as he looked into the twin ocean eyes; searching their impenetrable depths for something, he wasn't quite sure what. Matt's laughter died down enough for him to speak, Dom had to lean in to catch the almost whispered response. "You" he said as he tugged harder, making Dom do a sort of half somersault and promptly sitting on his abdomen. "Sorry to interrupt" they looked up in unison to see Chris leaning against the door frame. "Fuck off, I was just teaching Dom here some self preservation techniques." Matt said smugly, "Wanna join?" "My 'self preservation' would out preserve both of yours" Chris scoffed. "My fashion sense however is certainly not up to scratch" he chuckled, eyeing Matt's shorts. "Especially with the press junket starting in fifteen minutes," he continued. Matt leapt up as if he'd been bitten, using Dom as a springboard. "You wouldn't happen to have a spare pair of twousers?" He inquired of Chris desperately. "Isn't Dom a better bet?" Chris laughed. "Not with his fashion sense," Matt said darkly. Both Chris and Dom stared at Matt pointedly. "They're not fucking mine!" Matt exploded, wrapping the lab coat tightly around him to conceal the monstrous item of clothing.


	3. This is the end of the world?

I received a warning of sorts from another fanfiction author who called me out on my unorthodox use of Musey characters... In short, this person is threatening to report my story. So I will be taking this story down, at least for now, to avoid the suspension of my account. Sorry to those of you that were following this story :'(...I do hope to continue with it in the future. Until then, happy muse-ing ;)


End file.
